Butterflies in my Belly
by Battywattywoo
Summary: Well, this appears to be the first fanfic set in the world of Butterflies! Vanessa, her family & friend (and the dogs) are my own creations; the other characters are Carla Lane's.


Shall I wear my butterfly hair-slides today? Someone recently remarked that they looked childish; and I must remind myself, "Girl, you'll be a woman soon"! No, I think I'll put my hair in a ponytail, like Sandy's in _Grease_.

I kiss the photo of Spook, our beloved Samoyed, in my lilac-coloured, butterfly-shaped photo-frame. I chose the frame because I'm called Vanessa, and I was once told that means "a butterfly". I've read elsewhere that it was devised by Jonathan Swift, and later came to be applied to a genus of butterflies.

I'm lucky, and rather unusual, in that I've always appreciated how beautiful & alluring my name is. My best mate, Debbie, was never satisfied with her name until very recently; now, she loves it on account of the fantastic new pop-group Blondie, which has taken the world by storm.

Ouch! There's a twinge of pain in one of my teeth; I must have been eating too many Mars bars. (I'm fortunate not to get acne more frequently.) "It's a visit to the dentist you need, my girl," I tell my reflection. I know that Mr. Parkinson is the best dentist in the area.

I start humming my very favourite song, _Substitute_ by Clout; it was a hit last year (1978), and I can't get enough of it. For the benefit of anyone who may be unfamiliar with it (perhaps you're reading this forty-odd years from now!), here's the latter part of the song:

 **Each day by your window you sit and sigh hoping to see her face.** **  
** **Oh** **  
** **You might as well forget about her and find someone to take** **  
** **Her place.**

 **If she doesn't come back** **  
** **I'll be your substitute** **  
** **Whenever you want me** **  
** **Don't you know I'll be your substitute** **  
** **Whenever you need me.**

I drive my siblings demented, playing the record over & over again, haha! You'd think my parents, at least, would stop to listen to the lyrics, and ponder **why** the song has so much significance for me; but no, they just tell me to "turn it down a bit". (And I bet that awful Annie doesn't get hassled!) Well, maybe my folks are afraid of antagonising the neighbours; some of them are easily upset: a local newcomer, Mr. Conrad, was apparently most disgruntled when a frisbee had an encounter with his car.

Mind you, some old fogies may have hidden depths: I suspect Mrs. Parkinson (the dentist's wife) may be committing adultery. When walking Spook in the park, I've often seen her there, with a gentleman. Still, that's none of my business...Spook likes to mount a little Papillon bitch whom we sometimes meet in the park; she will probably produce an adorable litter. As for my little sister, she says she wants to marry both Kermit and Scooter!

Anyway, I digress. The fact is, I'm constantly aching with frustration, because the narrator of _Substitute_ could so easily be myself. I love the Parkinsons' younger son, Adam; and I wonder if he's ever spared me a thought? (What would the _Jackie_ agony aunts, Cathy & Claire, advise?)

He's pining for **Annie** ; and I hope it's a **hard-knock life for her**! She dated Adam for a week, before dumping him, announcing that he was "boring"; and he was devastated. Apparently, he can't forget her; don't ask me why, because she's nothing special!

I find a blank cassette, and record my own rendition of _Substitute_ (replacing each occurrence of "Sam" with "Adam", of course); then I label it. I look out of the window...I recognise that head of curly hair going past: that's Russell Parkinson. Here's an opportunity! I run downstairs, and outside, calling, "Hi Russell! Wait!" He turns, and smiles, "Hello, Nessa. How are you doing, kid?"

"Russell, please could you give this to your brother? Pleeaase?" He agrees, very obligingly: "Sure!"

Now I'm trembling, with the feeling of butterflies in my tummy; and my heart is pounding with anticipation: will Adam even bother to play the tape? Will he take the hint? Or will he just laugh in my face...?


End file.
